Ministry of Presence

On reflecting on the Passion, my mind was brought to those who stayed through the very end. When the frenzy of the crowd and the spectacle of the violence waned, when the disciples scattered, when the sun began to dip, there were the handful of people who stayed: his mother Mary, Mary the wife of Clopas, Mary Magdalene, John, Joseph of Arimathea, perhaps a few others. A far cry from the hundreds jubilantly welcoming him into the city on Palm Sunday.

Staying at the foot of the cross is often depicted as a sign of great faith, deep devotion withstanding any hardship. But this year, I saw their staying at the cross not as a sign of faith but an act of love. Jesus was suffering, and there was nothing any of them could do. But could be there. When he made the effort to lift his head and look out, with sweat and blood stinging his eyes, he could see familiar faces looking back at him with love. 

There is so much suffering that cannot be alleviated. When the sticky black cloud burrows in, or the body weakens, or disasters descend, sometimes the only thing anyone can do is be present. It feels so simple and, often, so useless. But it can make a big difference. Just sitting with someone as they struggle so they can know they aren't forgotten or abandoned can ease the burden. It's hard when you want to fix something and can't, want to find the right words but can't. Sometimes it would be easier to step away then to stay and feel so useless. But staying is a useful act. Let the suffering express their pain, hold them, pray for them, offer words of comfort if possible. The ministry of presence can be hard because it feels like doing nothing when you most want to. 

I'm sure those at the foot of the cross wanting to save Jesus from the crucifixion; they wanted to clean his wounds or offer him water or strike the men who struck him. But they couldn't. All they could do was stay as close as they could, witness his suffering, endure it with him. It didn't change the amount of physical pain. But surely it comforted him some to know that he was loved, that his suffering was recognized, that not all turned away. 

It's hard to be present when someone is suffering and it feels like there is nothing you can do. It is hard to be the one suffering and feeling like a burden to those you love. Suffering is, well, suffering. And sometimes there is no solution; we just have to endure it and see it through. And in those times, the ministry of presence is the only balm someone can offer. It is a great service. It is faithful devotion. It is love in action.

May we all have someone there in our moments of suffering. May we never be abandoned.